


Yesterday Was a Better Day (But You Still Have to Live for Tomorrow)

by jdooly



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Yugyeom-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdooly/pseuds/jdooly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Yugyeom was gunpowder then Kunpimook was the water that kept him caky and unthreatening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday Was a Better Day (But You Still Have to Live for Tomorrow)

**Author's Note:**

> I sat for weeks and thought about what I could possibly write, I get so many big ideas that I just can't tackle. Then yesterday night, I sat down and I just started writing this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks!

If Yugyeom was gunpowder than Kunpimook was the water that kept him caky and unthreatening. Take Kunpimook from that equation and Yugyeom is just a ticking time-bomb that needs to be defused or subdued.

He remembers coming home that night, kicking off his shoes. His back cracked as he stretched, too many hours standing and waiting on customers. He'd called out to Kunpimook, who would usually meet him at the door. When he'd made his way into the living room area, he found Kunpimook on the couch. He looked peaceful as he slept, it brought a smile to his face. Except as he grew nearer, he realized....Kunpimook wasn't breathing. He'd shook him, clung to him. Screamed and screamed his name until he was sure the neighbor's were calling the police over the noise. Nearly smashed his phone trying to call '911', but all was in vain. Kunpimook was a cold corpse. He was gone.

In between all the blanks in his memory of those moments, he remembers the police who called Jaebum who then called Mark, and the cycle that continued until everyone had gathered inside Yugyeom and Kunpimook's apartment. Yugyeom remembers being wrapped up in Jinyoung's arms, the comfort they offered before now felt detached and wrong. He wanted Kunpimook.

It’s been two weeks since the funeral. Two weeks since they stuffed “Kunpimook” in a box and buried him in the godforsaken earth. Kunpimook always wanted to be the star of the show. His ashes were kept by his mother, whose weeping was the agony-filled and broken. That’s all Yugyeom can really remember from the funeral and the memorial.

Yugyeom hasn’t been home since Jackson and Mark found him wasted and belligerent, unable to form sentences but always repeating ‘Kunpimook’, just like a prayer. He hadn’t put up much of a fight after he’d socked Jackson in the face, which allowed Mark to lead him downstairs and into the waiting car. Even though Jackson hadn’t blamed him and had already forgiven him, he was still regretful and sorry.

Yugyeom reaches the door, the door that had once been brought a sense of relief and happiness to soothe his mind now stood as a cold reminder, that he was alone. 349 with an eyehole and knocker right below. The once glittering numbers, seemed dull compared to the rich, chocolatey warmth that was Kunpimook’s eyes. He briefly remembers all the times he’d had Kunpimook pressed up against this very door, brown eyes twinkling with mischief as he gazed up at Yugyeom. He digs through his pockets for the key, he welcomes the brief coolness that comes with gripping the jangling mess. Kunpimook had liked to collect keychains and had filled both Yugyeom’s and his own key rings with the oddest trinkets.

He looks up at the sound of a door opening and closing down the hall. The neighbor has collected their mail. She approaches Yugyeom solemnly, her hands outstretched filled with weeks of unopened mail from their mailbox in the lobby downstairs. “Thank you..” Yugyeom manages to sound sincere as he clutches the rubber-band wrapped pile. She nods to Yugyeom and his friends, “..I”m sorry for your loss. He was a nice kid.” She smiles sadly, but fondly.

His grip tightens on the pile, the faint sound of ripping can be heard. Mark is holding his breath, praying that Yugyeom doesn’t have an outburst. He just nods at her in acknowledgement, his bangs falling into his eyes. He’s grateful for them today. When she returns to her apartment just two doors down, Yugyeom really wishes she hadn’t said anything at all, as if he needed a reminder. But that’s just what people do.

He slides the key into the lock and unlocks the door, the tell-tale click signaling his entry. When he pushes the door open, the faint smell of home drifts into his nose. Or what he used to call home. Yugyeom is numb. He stands in the doorway of their shared apartment. Jaebum, Jinyoung, Mark, and Youngjae flagging his left and right sides. Jackson had already barged his way inside, inside their life. Or what’s left of Yugyeom’s life anyway. If anyone has noticed the tremors running through his body or his unusual tenseness, they haven’t bothered to say anything.

If Yugyeom’s honest, he knows he looks like utter shit right now. His hair is a mess, dull and disheveled, his fingers have been pulling through it restlessly. His eyes are tired and red-rimmed from the endless of amount of tears. His clothes, an ocean surrounding a lonely rock. It’s as if he’s missing a limb, the sun, the moon, and the stars of his sky, the release of carbon dioxide without the promise of air.

Bambam- no, Kunpimook is gone. His lover is gone. His sun and his moon, the bubbly to his smooth. He’s gone. Perhaps the most upsetting thing is that there is no real reason as to why Kunpimook is gone, he’s just gone. He can feel the gentle urging of Jinyoung to his left, like mental probes pulling softly at Yugyeom’s mind. It’s Jinyoung’s way of encouraging him forward. Patiently waiting for the moment he makes his move. They say the first step is the scariest, and Yugyeom thinks they’ve never been more right. When Yugyeom takes that first step into their apartment, it feels as if there’s a brick on his chest. Like the air has been forcibly knocked out of him.

The energy of the place is non-existent. It’s as if Kunpimook is already a drifting memory to the indifferent walls of the apartment. Kunpimook is everywhere Yugyeom’s eyes land on. Slumped over the round table in their tiny dining room, drool leaking onto sheets full of empty bars and fleeting scribbles. He can see where Kunpimook is usually waiting up for him on the couch, swaddled in one of Yugyeom’s fluffy sweaters and his favorite pair of skinny jeans, the one’s with the rips in the knees and frayed denim. He almost smiles at the memory of Kunpimook taking one too many selfies, lying spread out on the couch, expression coy and teasing.

The one thing he tries not to think about is their bedroom, he knows he’ll eventually make it there, but he’d rather not think about all of the memories that room shares. They all know what they’re there for. Kunpimook’s family had requested for his belongings. It felt like each step they took they sunk further into quicksand carrying the empty boxes up to the apartment. Yugyeom didn’t protest because it wasn’t his right. Kunpimook’s things belonged with his family, in Thailand, not here to collect dust as Yugyeom stared at them. It was only right.

Mark hasn’t taken his glance off of Yugyeom since they began the walk up to the apartment. Nobody questioned why Yugyeom headed straight for the stairs instead of just taking the elevator. Youngjae is drifting his fingers across CD cases with ‘Kunpimook’ scribbled across them in sharpie. Sheet music decorates every available surface with composing books scattered here and there. It was Kunpimook’s dream, past tense.

In the bathroom, Jaebum has gathered Kunpimook’s colored lenses and empty tubes of eyeliner, he debates whether to throw them away or put them in the box. There are tons of hair products divided into baskets and in the medicine cabinet. The expensive hair-dryer that Jinyoung had thoughtfully saved up and purchased for Kunpimook’s 22nd birthday, even the hair straightener Mark had chipped in with Jackson to buy.

Mark finds Jackson in the bedroom, he’s boxing Kunpimook’s clothes robotically. He finds drawers pulled open and emptied, Jackson is quick but thorough. Although they try their best for Yugyeom, they’re equally as affected as he is. Kunpimook was their friend, their brother. How could they not feel anything when the troublemaker of their group, Jackson’s partner-in-crime, is no longer shining?

Mark doesn’t hear when Yugyeom enters into the dark bedroom, his breathing is as quiet as the place itself. They can faintly hear Kunpimook’s composing books being dropped into boxes as well as the rustling of paper as Youngjae and Jinyoung gather his things. The faint clacking of CD cases is audible even through the thicker walls. Yugyeom stops at the foot of the queen size bed, the wrought iron frame littered with tossed clothes, shoved blankets, and Kunpimook’s teddies. Yugyeom can see the faintest imprint of Kunpimook’s body, the disturbance in the sheets from nights better left unmentioned. The slightest scent of his cologne clings to the 400 thread count sheets. It’s barren and uninviting without Kunpimook spread across it, sweater hanging off one shoulder and cheeks dusted pink.

Mark and Jackson watch him closely. Where they could previously read Yugyeom, they can no long predict what he might do, how he may react. He just stands there, staring. The tension is gone from his muscles, to them he just looks like a weary, lost kid. They don’t know what’s more devastating, this image of him or the moment he figured out Kunpimook was gone.

Just as swift as he entered, Yugyeom is gone and they don’t try to follow. He needs his space.

Yugyeom, for the moment, has disappeared. Yugyeom looks out at the city that they’d begun to love together. The same city that had ending everything at the beginning. A page unfinished. For a brief few minutes Yugyeom feels like he could scream himself hoarse. That pressure building up inside of him might release if he just let go.

His fingers clench the railing, the gritty surface digging into his palms. It’s grounding. He doesn’t even notice the wet trails dripping down his cheeks. His cheeks are numb and his fingers are close to it. He sniffs, his nose is running. He’s tempted to wipe it with the sleeve of his sweater. The chilling air makes his feel less like he’s falling apart and more like the glue that’s holding him together is just a little loose.

He tries to breath through the hiccupy sobs. If he looked like shit before, he’s positively wrecked now.

When they all meet back together, arms filled with a box or two, they find him on the balcony. Standing there with the door wide open, it’s freezing cold outside. As it has been ever since Kunpimook died.

Jaebum drags him inside, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the glass in its frame, “Are you idiot? What were you doing out there? It’s 20 degrees out Yugyeom, and you haven’t got a fucking coat on! Do you have a death wish?!”

Jinyoung’s hand is suddenly on Jaebum’s shoulder, which he gives a squeeze. It’s a warning, they all understand his frustration but now is not the time to vent to the most vulnerable person in the vicinity.

Jaebum reins it back in when he notices the crocodile tears flowing steadily down Yugyeom’s frozen cheeks, his nose is pink and running. Mark doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yugyeom look so utterly defeated, in all of the time he’s known him.

The emotions are like being lost at sea, shoving Yugyeom along with their treacherous waves and chilling winds. Yugyeom is adrift in a storm, with no hope in sight. Jaebum doesn’t make a sound, just pulls the kid against his chest. That’s when he remembers, Yugyeom is just a kid, and so was Kunpimook. They can all hear the painfully, heartbroken sobs forcing their way out past the heavy lump in Yugyeom’s throat.

The way Jaebum tightens his arms around Yugyeom, he isn’t worried about breaking him because he’s already breaking and all they can do is try to patch him back together. He presses a kiss into the crown of Yugyeom’s head before resting his chin there.

Yugyeom clings to him, to them. To the only people he has left. To the only people who understand. And when he’s done, he’d admit that although it still hurts more than anything he’s ever felt, it’s a little more bearable with them here.

As the days pass by, Yugyeom starts seeing more. Where life had been blurs passing by without Kunpimook by his side, he started seeing what Kunpimook used to see. At night when the pain is indescribable, he lays awake staring at the ceiling of Youngjae's spare bedroom. He can hear Youngjae playing the piano in the next room over and it reminds him of how Kunpimook stayed awake days on end writing a piece. He's lulled to sleep by the sweet sound.

He spends his days finishing his Intro to Business course at the local college. He meets Jaebum and Jinyoung for lunch, sipping down his iced coffee. The sweet taste of it reminds him of kissing Kunpimook.

Mark and Jackson take him shopping for a new wardrobe as the winter becomes harsh. He passes by all the things Kunpimook would've died for, but couldn't afford. The things he would've worked himself to death to by before. Mark and Jackson purchase him an expensive new coat, not once does Jackson complain.

The months fly by and before Yugyeom realises, Spring has come. Kunpimook enjoyed spring the most. The fresh trees and waking bees. The sunshine and the rain. Yugyeom eyes the green grass with a fond gaze. Kunpimook isn't dead, he's growing all around him.

When they all go for a picnic at the park outside of Yugyeom's apartment, Yugyeom finds himself smiling, and smiling and smiling as he bathes in the sunlight shining through the clouds. This warmth, it's a warmth he'll never forget.

Kunpimook Bhuwakul.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was pretty straightforward I guess, not my best but also not too terrible either? I'm pretty satisfied with this though. I hope you enjoyed it, as always, leave any tips, constructive criticism, kudos if you like. Thank you as always!


End file.
